


Punishment

by Little Spoon (JaydenNara)



Series: Occasionally Domestic [16]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Collars, College Student Stiles, Consensual, Dom Derek, Dom/sub, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Sexual Submission, Punishment, Safe Sane and Consensual, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 13:50:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11403711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaydenNara/pseuds/Little%20Spoon
Summary: Stiles is a good boy. Nothing will ever convince Derek otherwise, even if Stiles doesn't believe it himself.





	Punishment

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize. This is in no way an accurate representation.

Stiles was not a pretty picture. Snot and tears, puffy red eyes, and trembling limbs. Derek tugged on the red collar - lined with the fur he had carefully clipped from his full-shift - around Stiles’ throat. He smoothed his hand down Stiles’ back, admiring the beautiful pale canvas stretched over his lap before his he settled over the pink cheeks of Stiles’ round buttock. The soft skin was hot under his palm.

“What is the count?” Derek asked, voice as soft as his hand as he gently massaged the tender flesh.

Stiles whimpered, fingers clenched around Derek’s pant leg, but he didn’t move, soft cock nestled between Derek’s thighs. “Twenty,” Stiles sniffled. Another glob of snot dripped onto the hardwood floor as he hiccuped.

“Good boy,” Derek murmured. He rewarded Stiles with another soothing pet. “You’re such a good boy, baby. Only five more.”

Derek didn’t take pleasure in Stiles’ tears, or how his heart jumped. He much rather spoil and pamper his beautiful baby boy as it should be. But occasionally, punishment became a necessity when Stiles forgot who he was, and why he wore his collar.

After Beacon Hills, the Nogitsune, the Hunt, the death, the chaos, the destruction, the loss, some by his hand, by choice or not, Stiles wanted to be good. And he was. Stiles was the epitome of goodness; a hero. Nothing could, or ever would, convince Derek otherwise. But sometimes, Stiles needed to be reminded that he was loved; that he was good.

Despite Stiles’ nudity, it wasn’t sexual. It never had or never would be. Derek had already made that mistake once, and he regretted it.

Early into their exploration of this new facet of their relationship, before either had delved into any sort of research as they should have, Derek had tried to shift the dynamic in a more pleasurable direction. Stiles had safeworded for the first time and only time. Derek had been horrified.

It wasn’t until after extensive research that they had re-approached the situation together several months later with a new understanding, a contract, and checklists. Stiles had marked a hard no to any sexual play, and ultimately, Derek had agreed because all he had ever wanted was to take care of Stiles. Their sexual relationship was separate.

Simple commands were expected to be obeyed when given. Derek loved to spoil and pamper Stiles, but sometimes ordering Stiles to take a nap was the best way to take care of him.

When Stiles had come home from class an hour earlier, he’d immediately disappeared into their bedroom and returned with his collar in his hand. It was their signal. Contrary to common belief, Derek did not hold the power, he only wielded the power Stiles entrusted him with. Still, Derek had hesitated for a brief second before taking the collar. His instincts had been correct.

Derek brought his hand down, twice in rapid succession, on the pink bottom, and Stiles sobbed harder.

“Twenty-one! Twenty-two!” Stiles cried and hiccuped. His fingers twisted in Derek's pant leg, clutching tighter until his knuckles turned white, but he didn't flinch away as he accepted his punishment.

Once the collar had been placed around Stiles' neck, Derek had started small; eat lunch, take a shower, fold his clothes, pick a movie, fetch his pillow. Each command had been happily, and eagerly followed by Stiles and rewarded with Derek’s pleased ‘good boy’ and gentle squeeze at the back of Stiles’ neck.

It wasn't until Stiles had been seated on his pillow at Derek’s feet on his pillow, his head on Derek’s knee as they watched the movie Stiles had picked while Derek pet Stiles’ damp hair that the quiet had been broken by a simple self-deprecating comment that Derek refused to repeat. Self-deprecation and negative thoughts were not tolerated by Derek. It was the number one rule Stiles was expected to follow, seconded by no lying.

Stiles sobbed and gasped for air when Derek landed the final swat. Derek immediately reached for the lotion on the table and rubbed it into the red, raw skin.

“Shhh… it’s okay, baby boy. You did good. You did so good,” Derek assured. He massaged the last of the cooling cream into the abused skin and rearranged Stiles on his lap, pulling his beautiful boy up to straddle his lap.

Immediately, Stiles tucked his head under Derek’s chin and cried into his shoulder. Derek didn’t stop him, only rubbed circles on his bare back and whispered praise into his ear until the sobs quieted and Stiles hiccuped softly.

“You know I don’t like punishing you,” Derek whispered. The sharp scent of Stiles’ humiliation and misery stung his nose. “But you can’t say things like that.”

The light material of Derek’s tank top bunched in Stiles’ fists as he tried to melt into Derek. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” Derek said. He nuzzled the top of Stiles’ head, mussing his hair, and pressed his nose behind Stiles’ ear. “What are you, baby?”

Stiles buried his face in Derek’s chest, trying to hide and muffling his voice in Derek’s tank top.

Derek growled low in his throat, and Stiles shivered. He curled a finger under Stiles’ collar and tugged. “What was that?”

“I’m good,” Stiles whispered, barely pulling back enough to speak clearly.

“That’s right.” Derek eased Stiles back to sit upright in his lap, even if Stiles’ hands still gripped the material of Derek’s tank top in tight fists. “You’re my good baby boy. You’re always good, and I will repeat it until you finally believe me, no matter how long that takes.”

The apartment was warm, but Derek ran his hands along Stiles’ sides and down his arms, rubbing warm into his cooling body. Derek wanted to carry Stiles to their bed and curl his body around him, and he would, soon.

“Next time, I won’t be so lenient. Stiles…” Derek paused. Stiles wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Look at me.”

Stiles finally lifted his watery eyes, cheeks flushed a hopeful pink, and Derek smiled encouragingly.

“You deserve forgiveness,” Derek said and ran his thumb over Stiles’ lower lip. “Not from me, but from yourself. You deserve to be happy.”

Sniffling, Stiles ducked his head and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “So do you,” he whispered, eyes downcast. Silent tears dripped onto the back of Derek's hand.

“I-” Derek swallowed the forming lump in his throat and tugged Stiles into the safety of his arms. “Yes. You’re right. Thank you, baby boy," he murmured against Stiles' temple. "How about we work on that together.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can stalk me on Tumblr here: [Always the Little Spoon](http://always-the-little-spoon.tumblr.com/)


End file.
